Perhaps now more than at any other time I can recall in my 73 years on this revolving hunk of rock, traditions and the familiar have gained a new importance. People, myself included, are grasping onto the comfortable and the known in a time of discomfort and fear of the unknown. We’re searching for Grandma and Mother’s recipes for the food that we recall from childhood; many have turned to baking perhaps in an effort to recapture the fragrances of a memory kitchen; most of us are finding new comfort in the music we love and have known since childhood; at other times we wallow – as I do now – in the mythical certainty of nostalgia as we face the uncertainty of the present and the future.
Many people have sought out a faith or religious belief that they had forgotten or forsaken. There are times when I wish I were one of them; I am not but I still find solace in the rituals, music, stories, words and traditions of that faith.

As I have done for the past forty-four years today I will listen to a recording of John’s retelling of the Passion of Christ. However it is not one of the more familiar and grandiose but a simple setting for spoken narrator and a cappella choir. It was composed in 1527, perhaps for the Medici family church of San Lorenzo in Florence, by Francesco Corteccia. The Evangelist (Arnoldo Foà) tells the story in the Florentine vernacular while the choir (Schola Cantorum Francesco Coradini, dir. Fosco Corti) is the voice of the crowd and the meditants.
Back in 2010 I created a video based on that recording which I’ve posted on previous Good Fridays and in a bow to the comfort of tradition will post again this year. Using the background of an altar piece in the V & A attributed to the del Maino brothers and made for Sant’Agostino in Piacenza I included the Introduction, a meditation on the soldiers throwing lots for Christ’s robe, the narration of Christ’s words to his mother and his death, and finally the recounting of the burial of Christ.
Once again on this Good Friday, as it has in Good Fridays past, this telling of the Passion bring me a sense of comfort and never more so than today as I sit listening to it and writing this.
The word for April 10th is:
Console /ˈkänˌsōl/ /ˈkɑnˌsoʊl/: [Intransitive verb]
Comfort (someone) at a time of grief, trouble, or disappointment.
Mid 17th century (replacing earlier consolate): from French consoler, from Latin consolari, from con– ‘with’ + solari ‘soothe’.
Though it can be used also as a noun the meaning has no relation to the way I am thinking of the word today.






